Breaking down a little everyday is harder- in the shower, on the metro, walking down beautiful tree lined pavements. It is easier to break down completely. To break down utterly and taking your time to heal before gathering the pieces again. But to break little by little, healing becomes a conscious, continuous, tiring process. Its a sudden sob that escapes almost before it's swallowed back. It's the piercing ache in your chest which is ignored. That hollow in your stomach which you satiate with alcohol. The shaking of your hands when you rush to the balcony allegedly to light a cigarette.
What do you think of when you wake up? Do you invariably tear up in the shower and beg the universe to help you please. But against what? And for what? Then you dry your soul along with your body.
What happens when you have loved too much and too hard for years without anything to show for it. When all of it is a dark tunnel- in retrospect and prospect. Desperation takes you to unexpected lows and to the willingness to compromise. Mirage it might be, some hope momentarily. Relationships and their tags-they all just become sounds without meaning. Life is lived piecemeal. Forgiveness, self respect and values are insignificant when one is on a ventilator.
Love is but the essential commodity. The institution that it comes disguised as is inconsequential at the end of the day. It's inconsequential when you are out of choice and out of hope.
Dichotomy -that's life. Or as a song goes "to live is to die"
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